


The Smallest Distance

by memories_child



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memories_child/pseuds/memories_child
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She forgave his first indiscretion, his second, his third. Believed him when he said it was the last; that each one was the last. Time has taught her to be harder on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Smallest Distance

**Author's Note:**

> **DISCLAIMER:** This is RPF. If you don't like it, please don't read it.These are fictional characters and any resemblance to living people, while intentional, is made purely on the premise that anyone reading this knows I am making it up.

The house is dark when he gets home; the dogs quiet, the children asleep. He makes his way through rooms that have turned into mazes, losing himself in the minutiae of the life he seems to have left behind.

When he reaches the bedroom he finds her sitting on the bed, the moonlight reflecting from the sea of photos that scatter the floor into patches of light and dark.

“Tea -”

“Don’t.”

The word hangs in the air like a noose. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, poised in the doorway. She doesn’t move.

“Tea -”

“I can’t, David. Not any more.”

She doesn’t look at him as his death sentence flutters across the room. He crosses the carpet to her, takes her hands in his as he kneels before her. She makes no effort to move, stares at him blankly as he raises her knuckles to his lips.

 _When she first met him he kissed her the way he kisses her now. Delicately, one smooth digit at a time. She thought he was charming._

Now, she is tired of his games. That he had chosen her, once, had been enough. She had worn him on her arm like a prize, a declaration to love and truth. She forgot, in Hollywood, that prizes are returned each year. They have become tarnished, now.

His eyes try to catch hers, brown to green and back again in the dancing moonlight. She doesn’t look at him – cannot look at him. She tries to hate him as his fingers cup her chin and his mouth settles on hers. Tries to hate him as his tongue slips between her teeth and her pulse quickens and her pussy becomes wet.

She finds a kind of comfort in the way his lips caress her skin. A respite, of sorts, in the lapping of his tongue, the gentle nipping of his teeth. His fingers are familiar as he slides the blouse from her shoulders, tracing the path of her collarbone with his tongue. Her body curves like a memory against his skin. His erection grows and her name flutters like a breath in the back of his throat. She tries to remember the way he moves against her, the taste of his skin and the way she fills up his eyes. Tries to remember so that when he has left she will still have that small part of him.

 _She forgave his first indiscretion, his second, his third. Believed him when he said it was the last; that each one was the last. Time has taught her to be harder on him._

He pushes her back on the bed, slides her skirt up and her panties off. He lowers his tongue to her cunt as her fingers tangle in his hair, as she finds some consolation in the smooth roughness of him. His tongue is joined by his fingers, first two then three, dipping into her as he strokes and licks and pinches and squeezes. Her body reacts to him, the way her body has always reacted to him. He is familiar and comfortable; a roaring fire on a cold day. She moans and gasps his name involuntarily, a heartbeat on her lips. He tongues her clit faster, fingers dipping in and out of her like a metronome. She arcs her back on the silk sheets, soothed by the loving of him.

When she gasps his name he slips his cock inside her like a homecoming. They move on the bed, his hands entwined with hers on the pillow. She turns her head as he thrusts, as his pace quickens and his teeth brush her neck. The moonlight casts a silver halo over the photograph she had been staring at when he walked into the room. The photograph of their wedding day.

When his body moves in hers she can forget.


End file.
